The Rogue and the Scoundrel
by SpellCleaver
Summary: "I'm no hero. Never was, never will be," said the woman who would go on to procure the plans to the Empire's secret weapon. "I'm with you there, sweetheart," said the man who would become instrumental in the destruction of both of the weapons to come. Set sometime before Rogue One/A New Hope. Oneshot.


**I have this strange, abstract hope that Felicity Jones will have a brief appearance as Jyn in a scene in _Solo_ when it comes out (the timelines sort of match, I think? And Jyn and Han might have run in the same circles) and because I know it's really unlikely I just decided to write that situation myself. **

**Note that I haven't read _Rebel Rising_ , so if there are any details I've missed/that don't add up about Jyn's character or backstory, then just assume it's AU or something.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.**

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The bar was seedy and run down - but then nearly everything in Mos Eisley was, anyway. Jyn Erso sat in the corner, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the other patrons, nursing both her drink and her arm.

She pressed the cloth against the wound again, hissing out a breath between her teeth. She shouldn't have come to this planet; it was practically begging for trouble. Filled with criminals and crime lords alike - not to mention the corresponding firefights. She shouldn't have come.

Saw would undoubtably disapprove, but then again she'd found she'd stopped caring about what he thought the day he left her in a bunker to die.

She took a sip of her drink, grimaced, then took another one. It burned, but so did her arm, so at least it was fair. Jyn eyed the patron eyeing her, and quirked her eyebrow in a decisively threatening manner that had the Rodian glancing away. It probably helped that her hand a twitched ever so slightly towards her blaster while she was at it.

She took another swig, her face scrunched up. She wanted to get out of this cantina soon - get off this _planet_ soon - and considered leaving just then and there, but she'd paid for her drink. She was going to damn well drink it.

Well, that and the fact that she felt like something _important_ was about to happen, but she had no idea where the feeling was even coming from. Maybe it was that so called "Force" her mother used to speak of - speaking of that, the kyber crystal round her neck _did_ feel. . . off. . . for a moment, maybe too hot or too cold or just _wrong_ -

Her hand crept up to grip it just as there was a commotion at the door. A man strolled in, maybe a few years older than Jyn, with light brown hair, a big blaster and a blasé attitude, closely followed by a Wookiee, who roared upon entry. His human companion ignored him, instead moving straight towards the bar and loudly ordering a drink. He took a rowdy seat up at the counter, right next to Jyn; she surreptitiously shifted away from him.

Apparently not surreptitiously enough, because he tilted his head while the bartender moved away and raised an eyebrow in her general direction. She kept her face hard, stoic, and barely reacted, even as her eyes caught on an open pocket of his. She wondered-

"Don't try an' pickpocket me, sweetheart," the smuggler said - because of course he was a smuggler, was other occupation was there in Mos Eisley? Farmers sure as hell didn't come here. "It ain't gonna go the way you expect."

"Likewise," she replied, keeping her tone aloof, separate, detached. She watched his eyebrows climb even _higher_ at her accent: she _knew_ it sounded upper-class - Coruscanti - but she technically _had_ been upper-class, for a time. And it wasn't like a faked Outer Rim accent would sound any less stupid. "Stay away from me," she said instead. It conveyed her message well enough.

"The name's Han Solo," he said, foregoing a response to what she actually said. "Yours?"

She gave him a long, measured look before she said, "Liana Hallik."

Solo snorted. " _T_ _hat's_ a lie if I ever heard one. I heard the real Liana Hallik got killed on Nar Shaddaa - some business 'bout a stolen ship."

Jyn shrugged. "Yeah, but the _Imperials_ don't know that. So I don't care."

Solo glanced over her shoulder then, and swallowed. She didn't bother turning to see; if it was anything of collective importance, everyone in the cantina would likely be panicking, not just the smuggler. He leaned in and avidly tried to continue the conversation. "You a big figure on the Empire's Wanted List, then? A _Rebel_?" There was the faintest hint of a sneer in his voice.

She wondered how he would fare if he met Saw - if he realised exactly what sort of background she came from.

She smirked, and took another sip of her drink. "I'm no Rebel. No bounty on my head, either." She said that last part less for his benefit and more for the benefits of any and all who might be listening in; this place must be full of bounty hunters. She did _not_ want to be caught up in that mess because some amateur made a mistake. "Just a petty criminal with enough offences to her name to be annoying." She set the glass down with a thunk.

"I'm no hero. Never was, never will be."

"I'm with ya there, sweetheart." Solo took a swig of his own drink. "All them Rebels ain't nothing but fools and martyrs. You'll never see _me_ go up against something like that." He looked her dead in the eye. "You start throwin' in with that lot, and you'll find yourself dead in a ditch, or blown to a few trillion pieces."

Jyn just nodded, then her gaze alighted on something behind Solo. The Wookiee he sat next to seemed concerned as well; he kept growling at his companion to hurry up, that they needed to leave. Just as Solo turned to argue with him, Jyn tapped his shoulder. She tilted her head toward the corner of the bar. "Friends of yours?"

The band of miscellaneous species scowling over at Solo certainly didn't _look_ friendly.

Solo turned to see who she was looking at, then cursed under his breath. He slammed a credit chip down on the counter for his drink and muttered, "C'mon Chewie, let's get outta here." She glanced at Jyn. "See you around, Liana Hallik."

She nodded back at him, but said nothing. The moment he was out of the door, she slipped his credit chip into her pocket and didn't even bother to feign innocence when the bartender gave her a narrow glare.


End file.
